


Unexpected

by teh_gelfling



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Kinkmeme, M/M, Slash, Spark Sex, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-25
Updated: 2013-06-25
Packaged: 2017-12-16 03:54:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/857471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teh_gelfling/pseuds/teh_gelfling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the Kinkmeme Prompt <a href="http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/7561.html?thread=6856585#t6856585"> here.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you feel like it, leave a comment or critique. I love knowing what my readers like and don't like about my stories.

The door to the rec room slid open with a hiss as Wheeljack and Perceptor strode in, talking animatedly about their latest project. The intent was to grab a cube of energon each, then head for the lab to put their newest theories and ideas into practice.  
  
Fate, however, had other intentions.  
  
Wheeljack looked away from his companion to do a quick look around the room, only to stop short mid-sentence when he saw the sole occupant. Perceptor looked at him in confusion, then turned.  
  
Prowl had been bound to a chair with an apparently muted vocaliser. His paint scheme had been reversed; where he'd been white was now black and vice versa. To top it off, his optic colour had been changed to Decepticon red.  
  
Wheeljack's fins flashed in amusement as he took a quick image capture. Then he opened a comm channel. _::Wheeljack to Optimus Prime.::_  
  
It took a moment, but finally the response came, though groggy. _::This had better be good, Wheeljack. Do you know what time it is?::_  
  
The engineer checked his chrono and was appropriately chagrined. The commander had probably only been recharging for a couple hours. _::Sorry, sir, but we have a situation in the rec room. Or, more accurately, Prowl does.::_  
  
 _::If he's glitched himself again, I'm turning him into a coffeemaker and selling him on eBay,::_ Ratchet broke in, equally groggy.  
  
Prowl glared. Wheeljack chuckled.  
  
 _::He has been... pranked, I believe, sir,::_ Perceptor responded. _::He is not pleased about it at all if his expression is anything to go by.::_  
  
Prime sighed. _::Ratchet and I will be there momentarily. Thank you for reporting this. Prime out.::_  
  
The two mechs looked at each other, then back at the tactician.  
  
“Well,” the Lancia said, “we'd better set him free.”  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
“How did you do it? Prowl recharges really light and if anyone touches him he's up and alert right then. So I know he wasn't in recharge,” Bluestreak asked the twins quietly. They sat at a corner table at the back of the rec room, drinking their evening rations.  
  
Halfway across the room, Prowl sat with Jazz and Blaster, glaring lasers at the red and yellow hellions. Red Alert and Inferno had a table between the two groups, and Hound, Mirage and Trailbreaker were a couple tables away.  
  
Sideswipe lowered his voice only a little. “It's great. See, when Prowl glitches, he goes into this... funk, I don't know... and you can do pretty much whatever you want to him. The best part is, he doesn't even know. Sunny and me, we've been getting him that way for _vorns_.” He leaned back with a cocky smile, showing off denta.  
  
The grey Datsun glanced at Sunstreaker, who merely smirked. “So how do you keep getting away with it? I mean, you never get officially punished when you prank Prowl, even though everyone knows it's you. But when you get anyone else, you do.”  
  
“It's a matter of proof,” the golden twin snorted. “Or lack of it, really. He can't recall us doing anything to him, and there's never any evidence left around or on security footage. We're very careful with Prowl, but don't really care with anyone else.”  
  
“Yeah, 'cause Prime would probably get involved if we left 'compelling evidence',” the red frontliner added, complete with finger-quotes and a slag-eating grin. “Don't really want that.”  
  
Bluestreak's optics were huge. “So you can just do _anything_?"  
  
Sunstreaker rolled his optics. “Obviously.”  
  
“Do you think he can feel it?”  
  
Sideswipe opened his mouth to respond, then shut it again and pondered the question. “I don't know,” he finally said.  
  
“Probably.”  
  
The other two looked at the yellow Lamborghini.  
  
“What?” his twin asked.  
  
“He can probably feel at least a little. His doorwings kept twitching when I painted them.”  
  
The sniper giggled. “Yeah, that tickles. It's so hard to hold still when they have to be repainted.” He suddenly began beeping and jumped. “Oops!” He quickly shut down the alarm, but not before drawing the room's attention. “Gotta go. I have an early patrol, so I need to go hit my berth. See you guys tomorrow!” He gulped down the last of his energon and dispersed the cube as he headed out.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
My alarm brought me out of recharge abruptly and I cursed. My fellow Autobots would likely have been scandalised—not so much at the word itself, but at _my_ use of it—but it summed up my feelings nicely. Every time—every single slagging time that particular fantasy came up in my recharge purges, I got rudely pulled out of it just before I could overload.  
  
Slagging alarms.  
  
Ah, but the fresh memory of Prowl writhing in ecstasy beneath me as my spike slid deliciously in and out of his hot, tight valve...  
  
No, I have work to do today, and it would not do to be distracted. Locking down my arousal was difficult, but I did manage. First stop, energon, then monitor duty.  
  
I passed my black and white Datsun not far from the security room. Oh, my hands just _itched_ to run over that frame. His attention was mostly on a datapad, as usual, but he did acknowledge me with a small nod. How anyone could make reading a datapad sexy was beyond me, but Prowl managed it spectacularly.  
  
Arousal flared again and I shook myself. Monitor duty called and I could not ignore it. Though, as I watched the object of my desires continue down the corridor, I sincerely wished I could...


	2. Chapter 2

A faint noise drew my attention as I passed Prowl's office after a meeting with Optimus Prime. The door was open, not an unusual occurrence, so I poked my helm in out of curiosity.  
  
Clearly, someone had been here before and must have said or done something that eventually triggered a glitch after they had gone. Ratchet's standing orders were that no 'bot was to just leave him like that, so of course I approached.  
  
After triggering and locking the door.  
  
I vividly remembered what the twins had said the other day about the SIC's glitch and fully intended to test it. As I got close, I saw that his optics were still on, though flickering slightly. Not a full processor crash, then. I smiled in anticipation—so far, so good.  
  
He had crashed in front of a datapad storage case and lay in a remarkably provocative pose, though one doorwing had been pinned at an awkward and uncomfortable angle. Carefully lifting his upper body, I freed the appendage and lowered him back to the deck. I ran my hands over his chassis, fingers delving into transformation seams and tweaking wire bundles. My cooling systems kicked on as my core temperature rose with my arousal.  
  
I lifted one of my hands to his face, stroking the smooth, pliable metal and reveled in the freedom to do so after so long. His lips parted slightly and I couldn't resist; I leaned down and pressed my mouth to his, my glossa thrusting in and sweeping around, tasting, exploring.  
  
Primus, he tasted incredible. How long had I waited for this? How many vorns had I watched him, learning his routines and habits? Observing, seeing every 'bot who approached him for any kind of relationship let down—from fellow officers to enlisted mechs.  
  
Just like he was saving himself for me.  
  
I groaned into the black and white's mouth at that thought as my spike bumped my closed interface panel. One of my hands held me above my soon-to-be lover while the other caressed and teased his doorwings. His fans turned on with a quiet whine and my spark surged with delight. He wanted me!  
  
My free hand travelled down his body to his hips. Fingers ghosting over the red arrow just above his interface panel, I could feel the heat coming off of him. I broke the kiss, then worked my way down, kissing and nibbling on the cables in his neck, laving my glossa over the glass of his headlights, working it into the gap between torso and pelvic armour.  
  
By the time I made it down to the juncture of his thighs, his fans were running on high and his panel had retracted, revealing that perfect valve and spike, just as I had imagined. Lubricant glistened in the office lights and as I looked, a large drop rolled down his interface array. I swiped it up on a finger and brought it to my mouth, glossa poking out to sample Prowl's essence.  
  
“Ohh, Prowl...” I whispered huskily. I leant down and buried my face in that wonderfully inviting port, lapping up as much of that sweet, sweet lubricant as I could. My glossa thrust up into his hot well, stimulating sensor nodes and building charge in my lover. Those walls clamped down unexpectedly as a rush of fluid flooded my mouth.  
  
Primus... That was fast. Was he...?  
  
Gently, I pushed a finger into him, feeling his valve contract around the invading digit, Sure enough, he still had his seal. He _had_ been saving himself for me! Excitement flashed through me and my panel retracted, my aching spike springing erect immediately. I wrapped one of Prowl's hands around my rod and helped him to pump it firmly. Frissions of pleasure raced through my sensor net, building rapidly until I screamed his name and bucked into our entwined hands, silvery transfluid spattering on Prowl's torso.  
  
I tucked myself into his side, spent, and rested there for a while, basking in my new knowledge and the afterglow. Eventually, I had to pull myself away and clean up, making sure to leave no trace. No sense letting anyone know what had happened, as Prowl was on duty.  
  
When finally satisfied, I unlocked the door and commed Ratchet. As expected, he was not exactly pleased that the tactician had crashed again, but was quick in arriving. After being rebooted, Prowl stiffly thanked me for my assistance, then dismissed me.  
  
I was absolutely elated as I walked to the rec room for my evening energon.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
“Hi, Prowl! I was looking for you and you weren't in your office and Jazz said you might be here. Have you had your energon yet? I can get some for you. I need to get mine anyway. It'll just be a klik.” Bluestreak bounced away before the black and white could answer.  
  
“He seems to be quite taken with you,” Red Alert commented from behind. “May I join you?”  
  
Prowl looked up from his ubiquitous datapad, then gestured to a seat. “If you wish.”  
  
The young Datsun reappeared with three cubes just as the Security Director sat. “I saw you over here and I got you some energon, too, Red. I hope that's okay.” He turned his attention back to his mentor. “So, what are you reading today? Is it exciting?”  
  
A slight smirk graced the tactician's mouth. “Riveting,” he said dryly as he continued to read.  
  
Blue looked about ready to explode with interest, his doorwings held painfully high. “Really? What is it? Can I have a copy?”  
  
The smirk widened a fraction. “Patrol report from Cliffjumper and Sunstreaker.”  
  
As the gunner processed the response, his wings drooped and he gave Prowl a betrayed look. Red Alert barely managed to stifle a snicker.  
  
“Do you still want a copy? It's logged with Teletraan already. I'm reviewing it again to try to find out exactly where and when Sunstreaker managed to get a pine branch up his exhaust. He's blaming Cliffjumper, who adamantly denies it, though neither will talk of the incident.” The elder mech looked innocently at Bluestreak.  
  
“A-a pine branch?” he winced. “Oh, um, no! I don't want a copy. Um, I'm... I've gotta go. Bye!” The gunner fled the room.  
  
The officers watched him go.  
  
“He's a flighty one, isn't he?”  
  
Prowl set down his datapad and picked up the energon. “He's mellowed out a little. You should have seen him as a youngling...”  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
My next opportunity to be alone with my lover came an entire orn later. Of course, I took advantage of every chance to spend time in his presence. And in my quarters each recharge cycle I would imagine what it would be like to have Prowl's legs wrapped around my hips while I pistoned into his exquisite valve. Or to have his spike in mine.  
  
And that was exactly the fantasy I was going to fulfill. I was quickly learning the fastest ways to get him revved up, and teasing his spike out of its housing was almost no challenge at all. Though, it was extremely enjoyable.  
  
Once he was fully extended and pressurised, I licked him from base to tip, then encased his rod in my mouth. Moving up and down on it, I ran my denta over the ridges that allowed his spike to extend. An involuntary groan escaped the Datsun's vocaliser, almost inaudible.  
  
I could feel lubricant building behind my panel and retracted it, a rush of fluid running down my thighs. I pulled my mouth off of his spike with a _pop_ , and positioned myself to take him in. My valve quivered in anticipation as I hovered just above his straining member, then I slowly impaled myself on him.  
  
Oh, the stretch was _delicious_! He was a little larger than my former partner and I hadn't interfaced in _so_ long. Pleasure blazed through me as his spike hit every single sensor node in my valve. I almost overloaded on the spot and only just barely managed to rein myself in. Once fully seated, I held myself still, getting accustomed to the feel of Prowl in me.  
  
After a moment, I leant forward to kiss him, then raised up off him a bit and pushed back down. With a wanton moan, I set a steady pace, murmuring words of love and adoration. It felt amazingly good, better than any 'face I'd had before, and I knew I wouldn't last long.  
  
Apparently, neither would Prowl. I felt his body stiffen and arch under me, and hot transfluid filled my valve just as my overload took me...  
  
My processor was pleasantly hazy when my systems reset themselves. A quick check of my chrono told me I'd been out for a full breem, longer than I expected.  
  
A tone from the door nearly set me into panic mode. Someone was trying to access the storage room Prowl and I had been searching for the twins' contraband stash. As I did a swift, unfortunately incomplete cleanup, I remotely hacked into the security system to see who was outside.  
  
Prime.  
  
I cursed and commed the medic on duty, which happened to be First Aid, just as the door opened. Heavy footsteps approached, and I gave Prowl's array one last swipe with a polishing rag, snapping his panel closed.  
  
Just in time, too.


	3. Chapter 3

“Hi, guys. I'll be right back. Just let me get some energon real quick.” The normally effervescent gunner's doorwings drooped a bit as he fetched his dinner.  
  
“Hey, Blue. What's wrong?” Sideswipe asked when the young mech returned.  
  
“Nothing... Just tired, I guess.” He took a sip of energon and offlined his optics.  
  
“Something's up. You don't get this way from just needing recharge. Spill.”  
  
Bluestreak sighed and rubbed his chevron, optics still offline. “You're right. Prowl crashed again. I wasn't there, don't know who found him first, but Prime was apparently there when First Aid got to him. They found him in a storage room! Why would he crash in a storage room? There's really nothing there. Well, there's supplies, but-”  
  
“Blue! Calm down. He's fine, right? Right.” The rec room door slid open to reveal the SIC.  
  
“Speaking of...” Sunstreaker muttered around his cube.  
  
The change in the grey Datsun was immediate. His doorwings perked up to their normal position, and his face threatened to split from his smile. “Prowl!” he called with a wave, bouncing up from his seat and making a beeline for his mentor.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
“Mmm... Prowl! Yes! So good!” I gasped, riding my Praxian's spike to completion. The charge built faster and faster until it consumed us both. I always loved the feel of Prowl overloading inside me. But as much as I enjoyed being spiked, I wanted to feel my lover around me.  
  
I raised off his slowly retracting member, feeling fluid trickle down my interface array. Bliss shivered across my sensor net as the cord slid out of my swollen, sated port. Gazing at that glistening appendage—shiny with our combined fluids—my own spike throbbed with want. Silvery transfluid dribbled from the tip as it strained toward Prowl as if it had a mind of its own.  
  
Oh, I knew I shouldn't take him, but I _needed_ him, so very badly. And he was lying there, flickering cobalt optics fixed on me, just begging me for my spike. “Oh, lover. We shouldn't,” I whispered as I began fingering his valve, my other hand fisted around my rod, pumping slowly.  
  
Primus, he was wet! My fingers slipped smoothly around his opening, gliding over external sensor nodes and setting off tremors in his frame. I added my glossa to the mix as I slipped a single digit inside, wriggling it over sensitised nodes, drawing delicious little moans from the tactician's vocaliser.  
  
My fingertip brushed up against his seal and I felt the calipers in his valve spiral down in reflex. As they relaxed again, I worked another finger in, scissoring them and pressing against the seal. The material became more pliable the more I worked it, and as I did, I could feel Prowl's overload getting closer.  
  
I pulled back to watch my black and white lover as he approached ecstasy. “Prowl,” I groaned at the sight. “So beautiful! So perfect.” I engulfed his mouth in a passionate kiss, swallowing all of his little whimpers and moans. I pulled my hand away from his valve and positioned my spike at his tight entrance. I pushed slowly in until I felt his seal on the tip of my cord. I pulled back and thrust shallowly, gently, barely able to hold my lust in check. Now that I had his oh-so-tight, untouched valve around me, all I wanted was to pound into it with abandon, but no. That would hurt my Prowl, and that was something I would _never_ do.  
  
I ran a hand over a doorwing and felt the little twitches that immediately preceded his overload. Oh, I was ready. Just as it burst over him, I thrust deep, taking his seal, knowing that the pain would be washed away in the pleasure. His calipers clamped down on me, holding me in place as he rode out the overload.  
  
Mmm, he was gorgeous. The sensual arch of his body under mine; the deep, long moan; his optics whited out with charge...  
  
He relaxed as it faded and I began to move in him, slow at first, then faster as lust fogged my processor. He felt so _good—_ almost too tight around me, and oh so hot and slick.  
  
It was complete bliss pumping into that valve. Charge leapt between us in the form of blue sparks as we drove each other higher and higher. I dimly heard the popping sounds of armour latches disengaging and was shocked to see that Prowl's chest armour had slid aside, exposing his spark. It pulsed strong in its chamber, a beautiful shade of blue with pale violet undertones.  
  
I wanted him—all of him—so bad it hurt. Without conscious thought, my own armour parted and I pressed our sparks together.  
  
Immediately, I was inundated with all that Prowl was. Nothing was hidden. Intense pleasure flooded the merge and I could not only feel my own sensations, but his as well. The doubled sense sent me careening over the precipice and transfluid shot deep within Prowl. My climax triggered his third of the night, and it was powerful enough to send me into another.  
  
I rolled off of him, weakly settling myself at his side on his berth. Recharge beckoned sweetly, and as I succumbed, I saw that Prowl had already shut down. I placed a kiss on the side of his helm, then oblivion claimed me.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
“Oh, Prime! Prowl crashed again! I've already commed First Aid, and he said he'll be here shortly. I don't know what happened, we were just watching the monitors!”  
  
“Calm down, Bluestreak. I'm sure he'll be fine,” Optimus assured the frantic gunner. The young Praxian was visibly distressed, his doorwings held stiff and high, though trembling, and his optics nearly white.  
  
The monitor room door whisked open and Ratchet strode in purposefully, optics narrowed. “I'm taking him to Medbay. This glitch of his is getting out of hand.”  
  
“Is that necessary, Ratchet?” Prime asked, concerned.  
  
“Optimus, he's been glitching at least once every other week for the past three months. This is the third time _this week._ _Something_ is wrong.” The CMO bent down and picked up the black and white Datsun, slinging him over his shoulder as gently as he could. “I intend to find out _what_.”  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
I watched over a long-established private security feed as Ratchet carried away my love. Intense anger and jealousy flared. How _dare_ he touch _my_ Prowl. The feelings ebbed as I assured myself that I was the only one he wanted.  
  
Wasn't I?  
  
I could feel paranoia nibbling at my processor. I pushed it away, but I knew it would come back. It always did.  
  
Our “beloved” medic went directly to Medbay and lay his burden on an out-of-the-way berth. He left the main room for a breem, then came back hauling a cart with several monitors on it. He hooked them up one by one to the unconscious mech, but before he'd had a chance to study the preliminary readings, Sideswipe sauntered in.  
  
“Hey, Ratch!” the red frontliner called cheerfully with his typical wide smile.  
  
“Go away. I'm busy,” Ratchet told him gruffly.  
  
“You always say that. What is it this time? Are you—Wait, that's Prowl,” he said, looking around the medic.  
  
“Genious.”  
  
“What's wrong with Prowl? Ratchet?” Worried, now.  
  
Jealous whispers in my processor.  
  
“When I find out, I'm not telling _you_.”  
  
Optics locked on the black and white form on the berth, Sideswipe bluntly stated, “He's glitching.” At Ratchet's hard stare, he continued. “I've seen them up close and personal enough times to know.”  
  
The medic sighed. “Yes, he's glitching. No, I don't know what's causing it. Yet.”  
  
“Let me know when you find out? Promise I'll keep it secret. I'm just worried, y'know?”  
  
“You know I can't do that unless Prowl gives permission. And that'll be the day Megatron starts wearing daisy chains and preaches peace and love.” A monitor beeped, calling for Ratchet's attention. “Now get the slag out of here so I can do my job.”  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
“Morning,” Ratchet greeted Prowl as the black and white's optics lit.  
  
“Ratchet.” His normally smooth, low tenor was scratchy with static, and he cycled his vocaliser as he sat up. “How long?”  
  
“About a day and a half. I had to run an antivirus and a complete defrag.” His expression turned serious. “Prowl, we need to talk.”  
  
“I take it this is to be a personal conversation. Your office?”  
  
The medic nodded and gestured for the Autobot SIC to precede him. “After you.”  
  
Once safely ensconced within his office, the ambulance sat heavily and scrubbed a hand over his face. “There's no tactful way to ask this, so I'm going to be blunt,” he began.  
  
The tactician raised an optic ridge and stated, “I've never known you to be anything but.”  
  
Ratchet snorted. “You've got me there. Okay, my question is this: Who have you been interfacing with?”  
  
Confusion crept across the Datsun's face. “No one.”  
  
“Not Jazz?” the medic pressed.  
  
Prowl's voice turned cold. “My relationship with Jazz is purely platonic. We are friends, nothing more. And I fail to see how that is any of your business.”  
  
“I'm just trying to find out what's happened to you, Prowl,” the white mech said placatingly. “You picked up a virus from somewhere that caused you to crash at random times. I'm going to be checking the crew, but it would be easier to know where to start if you tell me who you've been interfacing with.”  
  
“And I did. Ratchet, you _know_ I am untouched.” Real anger coloured his tone. “I do not appreciate the implication that I am lying.”  
  
“I'm not saying—oh, _slag_ ,” he spat as a thought crossed his processor. “Who else knows what happens to you when you glitch?”  
  
“You and Optimus. The twins have likely figured it out as well.” His doorwings flared and his optics narrowed. “I don't like where you're going. I have never interfaced with _anyone._ ”  
  
“Prowl,” the CMO said with a heavy sigh, “your seal is gone and your spark shows signs of a recent merge.”  
  
“No.” He shook his helm violently in denial.  
  
“I'm going to have to tell Optimus about this. Unless a Decepticon has been sneaking into the _Ark_ completely unnoticed, you've been assaulted by one of our own.”  
  
“ _No!_ ” The white helm whipped up, optics wide in his pale grey face. “Ratchet, you can't tell him. You can't tell anyone...” His tanks roiled at the thought of some 'Bot taking advantage of his glitch. He buried his face in his hands and whimpered. “This can't be happening...” he muttered forlornly. But he knew it had—the inexplicable low fuel warnings and excess charge in his systems after many of his crashes now made horrifying sense.  
  
Taken aback by the uncharacteristic emotional display, Ratchet scooted his chair closer to the SIC and laid a red hand on his shoulder. Prowl flinched violently and pulled away like he'd been burned, then purged what little was in his fuel tanks onto the floor between his feet.  
  
“Why, Ratchet?” he asked weakly, trembling faintly, as the CMO cleaned up the mess. He raised his helm and met the medic's optics. “Why me? Why this? Why _now_?” His doorwings drooped low, and he looked so much like a dejected sparkling that Ratchet reached out to him again.  
  
There was only a small flinch this time, and the ambulance swore Prowl actually leaned into the touch slightly. “I don't know. I'll be talking to the twins, and I'm relieving you of duty for at _least_ a couple of days.” He squeezed the Datsun's shoulder lightly. “If you need _anything_ , come see me.”  
  
“You're going to tell Prime?”  
  
He sighed. “You glitch again and I am.”


	4. Chapter 4

“You two. My office. _Now!_ ” Ratchet thundered as soon as the twin Lamborghinis walked through the Medbay doors. His face was set in a ferocious scowl, and he turned and walked military-precise across his domain into said office.  
  
Two sets of blue optics met in surprise as their owners followed.  
  
 _\\\What did we **do!?\\\**_  
  
 _\\\Pit if I know.\\\_  
  
Once the door had closed behind them, Ratchet spun and was in their personal space faster than they had ever seen him move.  
  
“You're going to tell me _exactly_ what you've done to Prowl,” the medic snarled.  
  
Black hands flew up in an attempt to ward off the shorter mech. “Nothing! Not for a while, anyway. It's not like we hurt him. We just play little jokes sometimes,” Sideswipe exclaimed defensively.  
  
“You call rape a _**joke**_ _ **!?**_ ” Ratchet hit the red chest in front of him hard, optics blazing. The frontliner stumbled backward into the doorframe, just managing to catch himself mid-fall. “You two are _sick_.”  
  
Sideswipe crashed to the ground on his aft. Both Lamborghinis just stared, stunned speechless, mouths ajar.  
  
“W-wait, _what_ _!?_ No!”  
  
"You honestly think we would stoop to that!?” Sunstreaker growled, outraged.  
  
“You're the only ones besides Prime and myself who know the extent of Prowl's glitch. Both of you have 'found' him glitched on several occasions. You do the math.”  
  
“B-but we wouldn't! Didn't! Couldn't!”  
  
“When I find out who _did_ , they're _dead_ ,” the yellow warrior stated, optics narrowed to dangerous slits and fists clenched. “And practically _everybody's_ found him glitched at least once.”  
  
“Who else knows about Prowl, then?” Ratchet asked suspiciously, wanting to believe them, but not sure he should. It wouldn't be the first time they'd lied to get out of serious trouble. Though admittedly never as serious as this.  
  
Sideswipe hung his helm. “Bluestreak knows. But—there's just no way he'd do something like that, especially to Prowl! I mean, he really looks up to the mech. Like a creator.”  
  
“How do you know it's not a 'con?”  
  
“Exactly how many can sneak past Red Alert's security system without leaving a trace, Sunny?”  
  
“Exactly how many Autobots can do the same, _Hatchet_? And don't call me 'Sunny'.”  
  
How many, indeed. “Hmph. You two are confined to quarters until I can conclusively prove you weren't involved. Get out of here.”  
  
The two warriors about-faced, but as they walked through the door, Sideswipe stopped and turned back to Ratchet.  
  
“Hey, Ratch?” he asked, quiet and sincere. “I'll submit right now to a full memory scan. Drop all my firewalls and everything. I swear I never did anything to hurt Prowl. Don't think I could. And I know Sunny hasn't, either.”  
  
Now it was the medic's turn to stare in shock. Neither of the twins had ever offered or even cooperated in a memory scan. It was always an epic battle to get them to drop even _one_ firewall.  
  
“You'd do that? For Prowl?”  
  
“In a sparkbeat,” came the immediate answer. Sunstreaker maintained his silence, but nodded somberly, back still turned.  
  
“You don't like him.”  
  
“Never said that. But we're Autobots, and so's he. We're not really the monsters so many think we are.”  
  
The golden twin finally turned with a huff. “You're right. We _don't_ like him.” He grabbed his brother by the arm and hauled. “Let's go, Sides.”  
  
Ratchet watched them leave. He triggered his office door closed and leaned over his desk, red hands gripping its edges hard enough to dent the metal. With a sudden roar, he swept the surface clear. Datapads scattered over the floor, some hitting the wall and shattering. He dropped into his chair and buried his face in his hands.  
  
“Primus, I hate this...”  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Prowl walked the corridors of the _Ark_ aimlessly, brooding. He had pulled a datapad out of subspace and appeared to be reading it, so to give the impression of normality to the mechs he passed. He hoped he wouldn't run into Jazz or Bluestreak, both of whom would recognise that there was something wrong and weasel the cause out of him. His glitch was humiliating enough, and the knowledge that some mech had taken advantage of his condition just compounded the feeling.  
  
Even now, a week after finding out, he still purged his tanks when he thought about it too much. As if it wasn't bad enough that the mech took his body, he had to take his _spark_ as well...  
  
There had been no instances of the virus found in any of the crew when Ratchet did his scans, so they had no leads there. Security footage had been scoured thoroughly under the watchful optic of Red Alert and nothing had been found. When the Security Director had been informed of the reason behind the review, he had gone spastic and threatened to lock down the entire _Ark_ until the perpetrator had been found. It took some doing to convince him to keep the investigation quiet, but he eventually acquiesced.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
It had been an entire two months with no chance to be alone with Prowl. Between Bluestreak, Ratchet and those damned twins, someone was always with him. The programme I'd uploaded into his systems was clearly gone, no doubt thanks to Ratchet. My memories of our times together and the steamy fantasies my processor came up with in my recharge purges could only sustain me so long...  
  
I swallowed another mouthful of energon and watched my lover interact with the others at our table. The twins had come in and immediately settled themselves on either side of Prowl, much to my dismay. I'm pretty sure I managed to keep it off my face, though.  
  
Jazz was animatedly telling a tale about... well, I wasn't really sure. I honestly hadn't been paying much attention. It was obviously hilarious, though, judging by Sideswipe's laughter. Sunstreaker smirked and even Prowl had a small smile on his lips.  
  
“Y'okay, ma mech? I don' think ya've heard a word I've said.” Jazz looked at me, a flicker of concern in his visor.  
  
“Hmm? Yeah, fine,” I responded. “Sorry. Just got a lot on ma processor. Decepticon activity and all that.” I watched as Sideswipe laid a hand on Prowl's forearm to get his attention. The casual touch very nearly sent me into a fit of jealousy. I stifled most of the growl that escaped my vocaliser and what I couldn't, I covered by taking another drink. My lover did pull his arm away, but not nearly as quickly as I'd have liked.  
  
What I wanted to do was wipe the floor with the frontliners, then pull Prowl over the table and frag him senseless in front of the entire _Ark_. Wanted to feel him around me again. Wanted to hear him screaming my name each time he overloaded. He was _mine_ , and I hated all the attention the others lavished upon him.  
  
 _Especially_ the twin terrors.  
  
I drained my cube with a grimace and stood, excusing myself as normally as I could manage. Sideswipe claimed Prowl's attention again while Sunstreaker pulled a polishing cloth out of subspace and absently rubbed at a “smudge” on the tactician's shoulder. I looked askance at Jazz, who only shrugged in reply, one of his indecipherable smiles in place. I found the display sickening and left quickly.  
  
Practically seething with anger, I walked the corridor back to my quarters. Thoughts swirled through my processor, each worse than the ones before. While I didn't feel that Prowl was actually _cheating_ on me, he wasn't exactly doing anything to discourage the attention, either. The ones I was truly slagged off at, though, were those Pit-spawn _twins_.  
  
 _Vorns_ of nothing resembling interest other than in driving Prowl crazy with their pranks and infighting, and now they're all... touchy-feely with him. The energon I'd just consumed threatened to reappear and I struggled to keep it where it belonged.  
  
No one was home when I got back to my shared quarters. Good. Fantastic, even. I locked the door and scrambled the code, hardly in the mood for any kind of company. If any of the little slaggers came home, they could go warm someone else's berth for one night.  
  
I paced the floor in my quarters, contemplating courses of action. I needed to get the twins away from Prowl somehow. The major problem with this was the fact that Ratchet seemed to approve of the situation. While there were plenty of missions I could likely get my competition sent on, there was nothing I could do about the medic...  
  
Yet.


	5. Chapter 5

The door chime sounded through the office, then the door slid open without waiting for acknowledgment. Not that the mech would have gotten one, as the black and white occupant of the office was slumped over his desk in recharge, stylus still in hand and the point resting on a datapad. Sideswipe shook his helm at the sight.  
  
Setting the cube of energon he carried down at the edge of the desk, he leant over Prowl and gently shook his shoulder. “Prowl. Prowl, wake up.”  
  
Cobalt optics lit suddenly and the Praxian leapt upright, doorwings quivering and fanned wide. “No!” he yelled.  
  
The red mech's optics widened and he backed off a bit, holding his hands up in front of him. “Whoa! Prowl, it's just me! I brought you some energon since no one's seen you in joors.”  
  
Processor booting up fully, the SIC relaxed his stance and gratefully accepted the cube from Sideswipe. “I apologise for my reaction. I saw a flash of red and panicked.”  
  
“Nah. You've got a right to be jumpy. I'm just glad you didn't take my head off,” he grinned. “Hey, Jazz and me, we got a party going in the rec room. You should come.” Before the tactician could reject the offer outright, he added, “Even Prime's there. And Ratchet. And Red, and you know _he_ almost _never_ comes to my parties.”  
  
An amused smirk accompanied the quirk of an optic ridge. “I suppose I have no excuse, then.” He studied the cube in his hand. “This is not-”  
  
“It's midgrade. Standard stuff. All the highgrade's been confined to the rec room and private quarters. Prime's orders.” The warrior took Prowl's arm and tugged lightly. “C'mon, let's go. You don't have to stay for long,” he wheedled.  
  
Prowl released a _chuff_ of air from his vents and let Sideswipe pull him out of his office to the rec room. As promised, a party was in full swing when the door opened, music and conversation spilling out into the corridor. Jazz materialised out of nowhere with a face-splitting smile on his handsome features.  
  
“Prowler! Ya made it!” The Porsche waved both mechs in enthusiastically, steering them to a table where several other mechs sat sipping their highgrade; Tracks, Red Alert and Bluestreak—together, it seemed—Sunstreaker, Bumblebee and Smokescreen. Prowl nodded a greeting to Optimus, sitting across the room with Ratchet and Ironhide.  
  
The saboteur plunked himself down into a chair right next to Tracks, sprawling so that he was leaning against the blue mech's chestplate. “Hey, guys! Look who's here!”  
  
“Oh, Prowl! I didn't think you'd come. I mean, you never come to any parties, or at least I've never seen you at one. Do you want some highgrade? You can have mine, I've had enough.”  
  
“Thank you, Bluestreak, but no. Perhaps later,” the tactician added at the young mech's crestfallen look. Red Alert absently patted the grey mech's forearm in comfort.  
  
“Mah mechs! And _Prowl!_ So glad ya came!” Blaster slurred loudly as he draped an arm over the tactician's shoulders and leaned heavily on the shorter mech. He was clearly _very_ overcharged, judging by the way his optics dimmed and brightened randomly. “Been _waitin'_ to see you again,” he murmured in Prowl's audio, just loud enough for only the SIC to hear.  
  
The words and the tone had an immediate effect on the black and white; his joints locked up and doorwings flared wide, quivering with tension. The cube of energon he held shattered, spilling the iridescent liquid all over himself and the floor. His engine stalled as the Communications officer ran a finger suggestively over his collar faring and dropped a sloppy kiss on his lips.  
  
Jazz shot straight upright at Prowl's reaction, visor bright and no sign of his previous overcharge. Sunstreaker growled low with bared denta and launched himself over the table at the red mech, murder in his optics. The room was suddenly thrown into chaos; Bluestreak and Red Alert grabbed Sideswipe before he could join his twin in pounding the boombox into scrap. Jazz and Tracks went for Sunstreaker, the TIC yelling over the music for Prime to “get yer slaggin' aft over here!”  
  
Ironhide arrived before Optimus and yanked the yellow Lamborghini clear of Blaster, twisting his arms behind his back and holding them there. Ratchet did a cursory exam of the prone mech and found nothing more life-threatening than dented plating and a long gash on the side of his face, leaking a tiny bit of energon.  
  
“What happened here? Sunstreaker, why did you attack Blaster?” Prime demanded, command tone firmly in place.  
  
Engine growling, the warrior glared at the boombox. “Prowl,” he spat.  
  
The SIC was still standing in the same position, frozen in place, face completely blank. Ratchet approached and Prowl's optics snapped immediately to his, the look in them unreadable, all colour bleeding out. Doorwings flicked sharply once, twice, then a shudder rolled through his entire frame.  
  
“Restrain me.”  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
I was rarely in the middle of battle, so it was always a surprise how time seemed to dilate when under attack. All I could do as a mass of furious Praxian came my way was sit there and stare, dumbfounded. _Why_ was my lover so angry with me? What had I done? Sunstreaker, I could understand. Jealousy, pure and simple. I'd have likely done the same if our situations were reversed. But Prowl?  
  
I watched as Ratchet tackled the SIC around the middle, just a few steps away, bearing him to the ground. I could see the heat rising off his chassis, warping the air around him. His optics were white, boring straight into me with a rage I'd never seen before. Not from Prowl. He was always so calm, always in control. This... this was unprecedented. _What_ had I _done_?  
  
I couldn't think, my processor was hazy with highgrade and shock. “Prowl? Love?” I asked, my confusion evident in my voice. “...Why? What's wrong? What'd I _do_?”  
  
Red Alert and Bluestreak glared at me, along with the restrained twins, Ratchet, and Prowl. Even Jazz didn't look terribly friendly. I couldn't help but cringe under that onslaught. Prime seemed shocked at the attack. Murmurs rose around the room and I knew that by morning, every bot on the _Ark_ and maybe even on Cybertron would know what had happened here.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Ratchet pulled Prowl to his feet, but didn't let go of him. They couldn't have their second in command attacking one of their own with what looked to most like no provocation whatsoever. “Back off, Prowl,” he intoned softly. “Just for now. Unless you want the reason for this to get out to the general population.”  
  
There was no answer for a klik. “No. You're right.” Cabling relaxed a bit and a slight tint of blue returned to his optics as the tactician managed to regain control of himself. Turning to the Prime, he said, “My apologies, sir. That was uncalled for. I will report to Medical for a systems scan to determine the cause.”  
  
Optimus studied his second critically for a moment, then nodded. “That would be a good idea. Dismissed. Ironhide, Jazz, please escort Sunstreaker and Sideswipe to the brig. Separate cells. Find out what caused this.”  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
The twins refused to talk. No matter how Ironhide bellowed or how many little mind games Jazz tried, they remained stubbornly silent, each pointedly ignoring all 'Bots in the brig. Eventually the two officers tired of their attempts at interrogating the twins. The only thing that might work on them was threatening the other, and that's what would have been done if they'd been Decepticons. Being Autobots, that method had been deemed unconscionable, especially for the relatively minor infraction.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Ratchet slammed Blaster up against the wall in a private treatment room, hand around his neck, squeezing vital energon lines to his processor. "Why the _frag_ would you do that to Prowl? He trusted you! Primus, _everyone_ trusted you!" he snarled, denta bared.  
  
The comm officer's optics were wide and pale in the face of the medic's wrath. His processor whirled, fuzziness creeping in from the restricted energon flow, compounding his problems thinking from the overabundance of highgrade in his systems. "What're ya talkin' 'bout, Ratch? All I did was lean on him a bit. Okay, well, I kissed him, too, but that's it. Last I knew, that wasn't a crime!"  
  
The CMO's optics flared. "That's not, but rape _is_. And _that's_ what I'm talking about."  
  
"But, Ratch-man, I _didn'_. We made love, sure, but he wanted me same as I've wanted him. Why would I hurt him like that? I _love_ him!"  
  
Ratchet's arm dropped in shock and the boombox crashed to the decking. "You honestly don't think you've done any wrong here, do you?" He felt ill. "You took advantage of his glitch! He had no knowledge of the situations you put him in, and therefore no chance to give consent. You _raped_ him!"  
  
"I never hurt him! And he responded to my advances!"  
  
The CMO had to forcibly keep himself from purging. As it was, his engine gave a sick-sounding rumble. "Just because it wasn't a violent act doesn't mean it wasn't rape. His _body_ responded, not him, you fragging aft-headed scrapheap! He's not conscious when he glitches. It's like a coma in humans.  
  
"You have no idea what kind of trauma you've put him through. You're lucky I'm not telling Prime. And that's _only_ by Prowl's express wishes." He leant down, right in the red mech's face, glowering fiercely. "But you're going to get yourself transferred to Cybertron, ASAP. As in yesterday. _Understood?_ And you're not coming back here until and unless Prowl goes there. I'm not going to let you hurt him anymore."  
  
The medic turned for the door, leaving Blaster sitting on his aft on the ground. "Oh," he said, as if just remembering something. "And if I find out you've even been _looking_ at Prowl, I'll let the twins have you. I know Sunny's just _itching_ to get his hands on your primary fuel pump."


	6. Chapter 6

_Several Months Later_  
  
“Hey, Prowl!” Sideswipe called as he jogged to catch up to the SIC. “Wait up!”  
  
It wasn't difficult; Prowl was moving much slower than usual. The day's battle had left many 'Bots exhausted and low on fuel. The tactician had gotten into a hand to hand fight with one of the Stunticons and had been left with numerous scrapes and dents, though nothing serious.  
  
“Where ya headed? Rec room?” At the answering nod, Sideswipe continued. “Sunny and I have some energon in our room. It'll be a lot quieter there and we know you prefer that. While you're there, Sunny'll fix your paint. How 'bout it?” He wore a hopeful expression.  
  
“This is not an attempt to seduce me?”  
  
The red mech looked offended. “Pit, no.” He grinned lasciviously. “Unless you _want_ to be seduced...”  
  
Prowl gave him a measuring look. After a moment, he said, “All right.”  
  
Sideswipe let out a whoop. His face threatened to split from the size of his smile. And it was a genuine smile, not his typical cocky grin. Prowl's lips quirked upward slightly in a tired smile.  
  
 _\\\What are you so happy about?\\\_ Sunstreaker asked over their bond.  
  
 _\\\Prowl's coming!\\\_  
  
Mild surprise flowed from the golden twin. _\\\Really. Wasn't expecting him to agree. Should I get out the highgrade in celebration?\\\_  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Prowl perched lightly on the end of the twins' sofa, a cube of energon in hand and his doorwings held high. He looked to Sunstreaker as if he would bolt at any time. Sideswipe sat on the sofa as well, but far enough away from the SIC to offer a measure of personal space to the mech.  
  
The golden mech shuffled the few pieces of furniture around the berthroom-cum-studio to make room to repaint their guest. He could hear Sides chatting happily to Prowl out in the main room. A small smile crossed his face. His brother was so ecstatic just to be around the officer, and a happy Sideswipe made for a calmer Sunstreaker.  
  
“Hey, Sunny! You mind if I show Prowl some of your plates?”  
  
He rolled his optics and selected a small crate, walking out and depositing his burden in front of the two mechs. “Here. These are better than the ones he'd pick out.”  
  
“Hey!”  
  
“It's true.”  
  
Prowl reached into the crate and pulled out one of the plates nestled within. It was a portrait of Optimus Prime, brooding. He was caught by the detail and sheer emotion the painting contained. Sunstreaker had perfectly captured a side of the commander that was almost never seen by his officers, let alone anyone else. “You painted this?” he asked, awed.  
  
The twins stopped their bickering and moved in to look. “Everything in there,” the artist said, a note of pride in his voice.  
  
Sideswipe began flipping through the paintings, pulling out a couple at random for the tactician to examine. _\\\Where's that one painting of Praxus' Crystal Gardens? Bet he'd like to see that.\\\_  
  
 _\\\Against the wall back in the other room. It's bigger than these.\\\_ To Prowl, he said, “Any time you're ready, I can redo your paint.”  
  
The black and white rose smoothly from the sofa. Sideswipe preceded him into the berthroom and immediately began rooting around in the paintings at the back of the room. He found the one he was looking for and set it up for display on an easel. The Praxian was speechless when he saw it, overcome. It was _perfect._ Every crystal was exactly as he remembered it. He reached out one white hand and brushed his fingers lightly across the painting.  
  
“Beautiful, isn't it?” the red mech asked quietly. “We only went there once, but it left an impression. Something you never forget.”  
  
“Indeed.”  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Prowl was very still, moving only when directed, optics offline, during the entire process of stripping the old paint and applying the new. The only exception was when Sunstreaker got to his doorwings; they twitched and trembled at the tickling yet pleasant sensations of the brush sweeping across their expanse.  
  
The red twin sat on the berth, watching and trying not to look overly interested. Though Prowl couldn't see him, Sideswipe didn't know exactly how sensitive his doorwings were. For all he knew, the tactician could sense _everything_ through them, including his steadily rising internal temperature.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Prowl's optics lit when he heard the warrior flop backwards heavily onto the berth. He had been painfully aware of the mech's attention and growing discomfort; the restless shifting he'd been doing in combination with the strokes of the brush had the sensors in his doorwings throwing fits.  
  
Sideswipe lay sprawled out, lower legs hanging over the edge. The black and white could hear his heavy vents and the faint whir of cooling systems working. He smirked; if the warrior could get that revved up over a simple paint job...  
  
Sunstreaker's golden hand landed lightly on his shoulder. “You're all done now.”  
  
“Thank you.” The SIC turned to face the yellow twin and found that he was closer than was strictly appropriate. His optics were a deeper blue than normal and Prowl could feel a faint heat emanating from the Lamborghini's frame.

  
“You might want to leave now. If you stay, I'm not sure how long Sides and I will be able to control ourselves,” he said, voice low and husky.  
  
“Do you want me to leave?” Prowl asked.  
  
“Frag no. But we don't want to hurt you or pressure you into anything.”  
  
The Datsun took a step closer. “You're not.” He reached up and pulled the taller mech's face down to his. “You're not,” he repeated in a whisper, then he pressed his lips to Sunstreaker's.  
  
The Countach froze, momentarily unable to process the situation. Prowl was kissing him. _Prowl_ was kissing _him. Kissing. Him._ His processor finally caught up and he crushed the tactician's frame to his, plundering that warm, slick mouth.  
  
“Primus below, that's _hot_ ,” Sideswipe groaned from his position on the berth, propped up on his elbows. His optics had darkened to a deep indigo and his cooling system was running on high.  
  
Pulling away from the kiss, Prowl could see that the yellow twin was just as aroused as his brother. Heat surged through his frame and he could feel his spike trying to pressurise behind his panel. The sensors in his doorwings registered the red mech's approach behind him and a tick later he felt a hot chassis pressed up against his back as arms wrapped around his waist.  
  
“Are you sure you want this? You can walk away right now if you're not,” the crimson frontliner rasped in Prowl's audio. The voice sent pleasurable shivers racing through his body and his doorwings twitched with the effect, clattering against the mech behind him.  
  
“Yes,” he breathed in responce as he turned his face to the side to kiss Sideswipe.  
  
Sunstreaker attacked his neck on the opposite side, kissing hungrily and nipping at cables and sensitive fuel lines. Hands roamed over black and white plating, finding and caressing erogenous areas. The stimulation had charge crackling over his frame.  
  
Prowl, for his part, was not idle. One white hand rose to stroke the side vents on Sunstreaker's helm while the other fondled one of Sideswipe's sensory horns. Both twins shuddered and moaned at the touches, engines revving and sending more shivers down Prowl's backstruts.  
  
A pair of hands ran teasingly over the interior lining of his doors and the hydraulics in his legs gave out as his vents hitched and engine redlined. Strong arms caught and manoeuvred him to the large berth, where he was gently set down. Red and yellow chassis bracketed him on either side, hands touching eagerly, mouths exploring heated plating.  
  
Prowl's fingertips brushed over the upper edge of Sideswipe's codpiece, eliciting a deep moan and a thrust of hips. He repeated the move a little firmer and was rewarded with the warrior's panel retracting and a heavy spike slid into his hand. He stroked it from base to tip and back, pulling myriad sounds of pleasure from the mech's vocaliser.  
  
“Prowl... nnn...” Sideswipe moaned, need evident in his voice as the black and white worked him. “Oh, Primus...”  
  
“He wants you to spike him,” Sunstreaker said in Prowl's audio. “Look at him. He's ready for you. His valve is so _wet_ ; he wants to feel you moving in him.” As he spoke, he fondled the Datsun's doorwings, then lowered one hand to the heated interface cover and teased the seams. With a strangled moan, the cover slid aside, Prowl's spike jutting proudly into the cool air.  
  
Sideswipe pulled the tactician into a desperate kiss, pushing his glossa into Prowl's mouth and tangling them together. He took the mech with him as he fell back onto the woven mesh, his rigid spike brushing silver-grey torso plating then rubbing against the other's erection.  
  
Prowl mewled at the contact, hips bucking. Sunstreaker pulled the black aft back toward him and reached around to wrap his hand around the thick member. He pumped it firmly as his other hand lowered to the wet valve, golden digits spreading lubricant around and teasing the sensors there. One finger slipped inside and Prowl cried out, valve clenching around the intruder. The warrior wriggled it around, setting off several nodes, then added another.  
  
Sideswipe writhed under the tactician, whimpering and begging to be filled. His twin guided Prowl's spike to the dripping entrance. “Please, Prowl. I need you,” he panted as he grabbed the Datsun's hips and pulled them sharply to his own, hilting that glorious spike in him in one swift move. “Primus! Yes!” he shouted, throwing his helm back and arching up into the body above him, optics offlined.  
  
The black and white's engine purred with the sensation of being fully enveloped in that slick, tight heat. The fingers in his valve continued their ministrations, scissoring within him and rubbing his walls, making him buck into the red frontliner. Each thrust drew a bevy of erotic moans and gasps and half-words from Sideswipe, further arousing both partners. Another finger was added to his valve, stretching the lining and— _“OhPrimusyesthere!”_ he hissed and pressed into the touch as a particular sensor cluster was stimulated roughly.  
  
Sunstreaker removed his fingers and leant over Prowl's back between the trembling doorwings. He ran his fingertips over Sideswipe's lips, prompting the other's glossa to lap at the fluids coating them. As his digits were cleaned of Prowl's essence, he growled into the Praxian's audio, “I'm gonna fuck you so hard you won't know up from down, until you scream my name. You'll like that, won't you? Sides always does...” He punctuated his statements with little licks to the audio sensor and hard revs of his high-performance engine.  
  
Shudders ran through the SIC's frame as he heard the _snickt_ of an interface panel retracting and the tip of Sunstreaker's turgid shaft prodded his well-lubricated opening. The warrior pressed in agonisingly slowly, thrusting shallowly then pulling almost all the way out, taking the Datsun inch by inch, letting the calipers readjust to accommodate his girth. Sideswipe rolled his hips, trying to get more friction, valve walls clenching around the spike within.  
  
Prowl pushed back onto Sunstreaker's spike, taking it further in and drawing halfway out of the red twin. The golden warrior retaliated by pulling out, then slamming back in, hitting deeply recessed sensor clusters and eliciting pleasured shouts from both the tactician and his brother. He set a hard, steady pace, changing the angle of his thrusts every so often, hitting as many nodes as he could and driving Prowl wild.  
  
The combined sensations of being so completely filled and encased in exquisite, clenching heat at the same time sent Prowl headlong into a processor-shattering overload. An inarticulate cry of ecstasy wrenched itself from his vocaliser as hot transfluid erupted from his spike deep within Sideswipe. Sunstreaker continued to thrust into the Praxian's now painfully tight valve, forcibly holding off his own release to prolong his lover's.  
  
“Scream for me,” he grunted, then bit down on the edge of a doorwing.  
  
Prowl arched into the golden chassis as his sensor net was overwhelmed. “Sun... Sunstreaker!” His voice crackled and broke, but the impassioned shout sent both brothers over the precipice.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Pings of cooling metal sounded in their audios as systems rebooted. “Whoa,” Sideswipe groaned, an electronic buzz running through his voice. “That was intense.” He wriggled a little under the weight of the two mechs, vents hitching when oversensitised nodes sent a wave of pain/pleasure through him. Prowl's spike was still buried in him, half depressurised. He could feel the sharp twitch and hardening of the member as sensors were stimulated along its length and Prowl whined quietly. “Sunny, get off. You're squashing us!”  
  
The yellow Lamborghini stretched languidly and smirked, a mischievous glint in his optics. “I already got off. Wouldn't mind a repeat performance, though,” he said with a light thrust of his hips and a nibble on Prowl's neck. He did shift, however, pulling the tactician with him and free of Sideswipe. Turning the black and white around, Sunstreaker caught his mouth in a passionate kiss.  
  
“Mmm,” the red twin purred. “My turn.” He moved in, pushing the other out of the way, and ran gentle fingers over Prowl's cheek arch. His black hand cupped the silver jaw and tilted the white helm slightly to a better angle, then he brought their lips together softly.  
  
Prowl made a noise sounding suspiciously like a sigh as he melted into Sideswipe's arms. He felt a glossa sweep across his mouth and he eagerly parted his lips to allow the kiss to deepen. Fingers played across his door hinges then dug in, stroking and teasing until he was a quivering mass of metal.  
  
Sideswipe moved on from his mouth, feathering light kisses along his jawline and down his neck, pausing there to nibble and suck on the cables and fluid lines. Those lips moved back up to his face, nipping at his lower lip then travelling on to press a kiss to the red chevron on his helm. Another sigh escaped the Praxian mech and his hands rose to stroke and tease transformation seams, setting off all the sensor nodes he could find.  
  
The frontliner's vents hitched and Prowl felt his spike prodding his abdominal plating. That hot mouth returned to his own, hard and demanding this time. Sideswipe slammed him up against the wall by the berth, one hand groping his aft while the other pulled one of Prowl's legs up around his hips. The kiss never faltered as the red mech pushed smoothly in, lubricant and transfluid easing his passage, setting a swift, desperate pace.  
  
Charge built rapidly, eating away at what control they had left, until it burst over them in waves, blinding in its intensity. Screams of pure ecstasy echoed through the rooms and could be heard out in the corridor, startling a passing mech.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Prowl woke slowly, unwilling to move, feeling more relaxed and at ease than he had in vorns. Two bodies lay warm against him; Sunstreaker curled around him on his right and Sideswipe sprawled on the left, using his torso as a pillow. He smiled softly and stroked the black helm, the red mech murmuring in his recharge as he did.  
  
A message icon flashed his his HUD and he opened it.  
  
 _Twins must'a done somethin' right. Never heard ya that loud. Congratulations—Jazz (and the rest of the_ Ark. _)_


End file.
